


Confessional

by monolithjemma



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst forever because it's FitzSimmons, Confessional, Confessions, F/M, Fitz finally stands up for himself, For now it's just all angst, Guilt, Honesty, Might get a bit smutty later, Science Babies, Survivor Guilt, There's like very little humor in here, They will get their shit together, True Love, eventually, otp, poor sweet scot, sorry about that, which is pretty much in keeping with the actual show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:16:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5629438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monolithjemma/pseuds/monolithjemma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-three days after the team's return from Maveth, Jemma Simmons comes back to work in the lab, by all appearances as though she had never been abducted by an alien rock and fallen in love with a burly astronaut in a whole different galaxy, then risked everything to rescue him, then found out that he had died trying to save her. Oh, and snogged her best friend in the middle of that very same lab somewhere in between.</p><p>For Fitz, the worst similarity between Current Jemma and Pre-Monolith Jemma is that she still doesn't know exactly what she feels for him - now that she's apparently done grieving Will, does she want to be friends, or something more?</p><p>The only time Jemma's been honest and clear about her feelings for Fitz is via cell phone message with him all the way across the universe. In a last ditch effort to get to the truth and save their relationship, Fitz tries to replicate those conditions.</p><p>Honestly, this could go either way. Buckle up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ghost of a Good Thing

1\. Ghost of a Good Thing

 

Days since Maveth: 23

 

"Hi, Fitz." 

 

Fitz knew Jemma was coming back to the lab today, but the sound of her voice still made his heart stutter and his stomach flip. She'd spent the past three weeks very quietly, very politely avoiding him and the rest of the team, doing some work from her quarters and slipping into the lab in the dead of night to do what she couldn't from the solitude of her room. Somehow, she'd eaten and met with their superiors. No one had updated Fitz, and he hadn't asked. 

 

Fitz's mouth dropped open and then closed again, giving way to an intense swell of self-loathing at not being able to return this simplest of greetings. Christ, he'd been able to do better the last time she came back to their lab, when it was a total surprise and he was still fighting tooth and nail through hypoxia-induced aphasia.

 

He knew what was different about this time, though - this time, he'd dove through a hole in the universe to save her. Twice. He'd told her in no uncertain terms that he loved her more than life itself. He'd kissed her, just feet from where they stood now, and she'd kissed him back. 

 

"You said it'd be alright if I came back to the lab today, so -" 

 

God, her voice alone was enough to undo him. He'd missed her proper British accent which had somehow become a touchstone for him, a comfort. "Yeah. Um, yeah. Just - your bench is just as you left it. Um...still. I've spoken with Hannah and Haroun, and they'll be on hand to assist you with whatever you might need. Passed on your briefing to them and everything."

 

Jemma had been working on a comprehensive indexing system for the ever-increasing number of Inhumans crossing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s path since the ancient Inhuman had been unleashed on the globe, combing the earth for his army. S.H.I.E.L.D. tried to reach the evil creature's potential soldiers first, and thanks to Daisy and Mack's efforts, they were succeeding much of the time. Jemma had been right to devise a system to quickly evaluate each Inhuman's field readiness on a scale from one to ten after averaging their scores on a number of factors. 

 

Jemma's mouth twitched up in the ghost of a smile. "You learned their names."

 

Fitz dipped his head, half-hiding a small smile of his own. "Well, not all of 'em. Just my favorites. The least useless ones, you know."

 

"Your favorites? And you're lending them to me?" Jemma said, with what might possibly have been the lilt that came with the playful teasing she used to give him on the regular.

 

Fitz shrugged. "You told me to be nice. To the lab techs. I took it to heart."

 

Aside from pushing past his own guilt, with a lot of help from Bobbi, over his hand in Will's death, Fitz had been struggling with one thing more than any other - how he would know when Jemma was ready. Ready for what, exactly, he wouldn't have been able to put his finger on the day they first came back to the Playground, but he knew there would come a time when she was ready to come back to him. That was when he would know, he told himself, what "back to him" would look like. Either she would want to be friends, maybe best friends once again, even, but still friends. Just friends. 

 

That, or that tiny spark of fascinated interest would turn out to be something more - the spark he'd seen in her eyes, felt in her lips as they touched his, sensed in her fingertips gently pressing into his cheek when she pulled them away after their one and only kiss.

 

He knew that she was mourning Will - someone she loved. She was entitled to that, he wanted her to have that. He also knew that her guilt over surviving that planet even as Will had given his life for her compounded that mourning to an unbearable degree. 

 

What he didn't know was whether pushing himself into her space in an effort to be there for her would hurt or help. Because he had told her how he felt, because he had grabbed her and kissed her, she knew that her acute grief over losing Will was a double-edged sword - she knew that it hurt Fitz, too, and surely felt even more guilt over that. 

 

Fitz didn't want her to see any more than she could imagine, so as much as he wanted to, he hadn't knocked on her door, hadn't offered his arms as a safe haven or his chest as a tether to a world in which she was loved, unconditionally.

 

"Oh, Fitz," she said with that kind, familiar smile and shake of her head. Instantly, they were 26 years old again, stepping onto the Bus the first time and solving their squabbles with a game of Roshambo. She stepped toward him and he froze when she reached an arm out. She squeezed his shoulder as she passed him on her way to her lab bench, and then got to work, just like that. 

 

Just like old times. 

 

Just like none of it had ever happened. 

 

Over the course of the day, as he snuck glances over at her as she worked, Fitz's emotions warred within him. On the one hand, he was beyond relieved that Jemma was here, and alive, and okay, and for all intents and purposes, _herself_. On the other, it was uncanny to the point of being disturbing just how very much herself she was. 

 

Fitz had only ever thought of 'pre-monolith Jemma' as a wistful memory, a beacon of hope during the darkest times after she'd gone missing. He never actually thought he would ever encounter that Jemma ever again. Yet, here she was - same tone and lilt to her voice, same patient yet authoritative directives to the lab techs, same bloody style of dress and swoop to her eyeliner.

 

It was like looking at a ghost.

 

Jemma wouldn't have seemed off at all to anyone who didn't know her as well as Fitz did. But he knew. He knew that there was a spark to her eyes that was a bit duller than usual, a halting hitch to her step every now and again that marred the confidence with which she'd once navigated their lab. 

 

Most obviously, and perhaps worst of all, it was like someone had taken his Jemma and removed every word, every touch, every tear and every revelation that had passed between them in the past few months. 

 

Which meant that the one thing he'd been waiting for, the one bit of knowledge that would set the rest of his life on course, wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't know how all those things had affected her. He wouldn't know whether they were friends or more. If she kept this up, this pre-monolith Jemma charade, he would live the rest of his life in limbo.

 

And that was the one thing, the only thing, Fitz just couldn't bear.

 

He stood hunched over his own bench, mired in this resignation from lunch to tea time, when Jemma infuriatingly brought him a mug of tea with a bit of milk and far too much sugar - exactly as he'd taken it ten months ago. (Since then, he'd drunk it black, not having time or energy to add anything, nor the fortitude to revisit the milk and sugar pots that he and Jemma had once used together.)

 

He tried to smile at her in his old way, but from her answering look, he knew that both of them could tell something was off. 

 

Without taking a sip, Fitz walked out of the lab and toward the Playground's residential wing.


	2. No News is Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erk. This is not looking good.

2\. No News is Bad News

Days since Maveth: 24

Fitz hadn't slept much since he'd left the lab without warning and headed straight to Daisy's room. He'd thanked the stars, both Earth's and Maveth's, that she hadn't been asleep or otherwise...occupied when he knocked. Lincoln had sat at the small desk in the corner of her room, headphones on and engrossed some online journal when Daisy opened the door. One look at Fitz's face had her waving Lincoln away, seeing him past her threshold with a peck on the lips. 

Fitz had planned on a businesslike talk, but Daisy was expert at getting anyone to open up. Before he knew it, he was sat on the edge of her bed, shoulders slumped over and tears plopping on her coverlet, while she sat cross-legged on the bed's end, watching him with sorrow-filled eyes. 

An hour later, Daisy was seeing Fitz out of her room as well, with a comforting squeeze of his shoulder. "Nobody will think anything of it, Fitz, if that's what you decide to do. And even if anyone did guess why you want this, nobody would blame you."

"I know. I just worry over her." 

"You know the team will take good care of her, no matter what."

"Better than I could, obviously."

"Hey. Hey, stop that." Daisy had pushed up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against Fitz's temple. "You're perfect. Things just suck now. That's all it is. It'll get better between the two of you. It always does. Okay?"

"Okay." Fitz had swallowed hard and willed a brave mask to cover his feelings for the journey back to his bunk, five doors down. "Okay."

****

8:42 AM. Fitz sighed deeply as he listened to the hiss of the water starting to dance in the kettle. If pre-monolith Jemma was to persist, she'd be here in precisely three minutes to grab a cuppa on the way to the lab. 

Hunter strode into the kitchen, his voice a foghorn blaring through the dreadful quiet. "Ah, mate! Put the kettle on for me?" 

Fitz shot him a glare. "Not quite." 

At that moment, Jemma appeared walking down the hall through the kitchen's tall windows, and Fitz jerked his chin up ever so slightly toward her. 

"Ah. Apologies. I'll just...drink some of Bobbi's bloody disgusting coffee."

Fitz raised his eyebrows and dipped his head in acknowledgment. He'd thank Hunter later. Probably.

"Morning, Fitz." Jemma's smile was friendly but businesslike. If this hadn't been so devastating to Fitz, it would have been downright freaky. 

The greeting Morning, Simmons, sat on the tip of his tongue, barbed outward, ready to bait her. But then he realized, the one part of her that showed change since things had been relatively easy between them, before the war with the Inhumans, before the monolith...

"Your hair," he blurted. "It's..."

"A mess, I know," she murmured, scrolling absentmindedly through something on her tablet as she slid onto a stool beside him, easy as can be. "I haven't been able to get off the base to have it done, and as you might imagine, I don't trust Bobbi with it, much as she might fancy herself an expert with -"

"No. It's...erm..."

Jemma ran a hand lightly over the back of her hair, and Fitz watched a rosy blush flood her cheeks. Even when she was frustrating him to death, she could still take his breath away. His insides twisted at the realization even as he forced the words out before he lost his resolve. "It's the only thing that hasn't gone back."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she bent her head over her mug. The alluring purse of her lips as she blew across the surface of the hot liquid was almost distracting enough to throw him off his train of thought. Bugger, this had to stop. 

"Back to the way things were. Before the monolith. And...everything."

"My point exactly which is why I'd love to have it done. Why, exactly, are we even talking about this, Fitz?" There it was. The little twist of her jaw that had only developed since she'd been there, the one that betrayed her exact thoughts to him - that even though she hated a conversation, she hated worse that she was losing control over its direction. 

Just like she had when she insisted the cosmos didn't want anything. 

The anger that had burned through him in that moment, so many weeks ago now, flashed up through his chest again. "Because if it wasn't for that, for your bloody long-ish hair, I would think none of the last half-year ever happened!"

Instantly, Jemma's eyes took on the wet sheen of tears. Now he'd gone and bloody done it. Now he'd made her cry. He'd done the very thing he'd spent the last three and a half weeks trying to avoid at all costs.

"M' sorry, Jem. Never mind. Your hair looks lovely." He stood and hooked his fingers through his mug of tea, all resolve for the proposal he'd been ready to toss at her, the ultimatum really, shot to hell.

He'd only taken two steps toward the door when she grabbed his free hand. "No," she ground out, her voice shaky but firm. "You are not walking away from me. Sit."

Fitz obeyed, stunned at this change in her demeanor.

"What is happening? I thought this is what you want, Fitz!" A single tear trickled down her cheek, and Fitz instantly hated himself ten times more. 

"What's what I want? Bloody puppet Jemma who never got swept away to an alien planet, who never fell in love with -"

Jemma's lip trembled, and two more tears tumbled down her cheek, drawing tracks through her perfect makeup. Bloody Christ. Now he'd gone and done it. 

"I thought you wanted us to be okay again," she said, her voice a gnarled whisper. "I suppose I was wrong. I suppose you really do want nothing to do with me."

"Jemma, that's not - I just -" There were a million words on the tip of his tongue, but just like that awful-turned-wonderful-turned-awful-again kiss in the lab, he could only get one phrase out - "Do you love me?"

Jemma gasped, a quick breath in, her mouth gaping at him, and, after a moment, her eyes squeezing shut and opening wide again. Like she wished she could rewind two seconds, to before he'd even asked. "I - Fitz, it's - it's not - that's - I just need -"

"You don't know. You still don't know."

Just like her answer to the last question he'd blurted out to her, about whether she loved Will, he'd known the answer before he asked it. After all they'd been through, after the med pod and brain damage and the S.H.I.E.L.D. Civil War and the Inhumans, a not one, but two visits to a planet across the galaxy, she still didn't know how she felt about him.

Jemma squeezed her eyes shut, drew her hands onto her lap. Her fingers twisted together and she sniffled, opening her eyes to him after several long seconds.

She didn't say a word.

"I can't do this anymore, Jemma."

"You - what do you mean?" The pain in her voice would have had him drawing her into his arms and apologizing, telling her it would be alright. Putting himself, and his needs, last. Again.

It was a good thing that this time, he had a plan.

"I've spoken with Daisy," he said, stiffening his spine, maybe in order to steel himself against the urge to fold himself into her. "They're bringing in more Inhumans than they realistically have pods for. They can use me in the field to construct new ones with particular properties as needed. I'm leaving, Jem."

"No," she whispered. Just one word. Enough to undo him, if he didn't have a plan.

"I'll never be far," he said. "But there's one thing I know for sure. Being together, in the same place, has never done us any favors in terms of figuring out how we feel."

"What does that even mean?" Jemma asked wetly.

"It means that the only time you've ever been clear to me, and maybe to yourself, about your feelings for me is when you were literally across the galaxy." 

Jemma drew in a shuddering breath. "My phone," she whispered.

"Yeah. So, erm, I'll be in touch. If you want to talk. But not directly."

"Fitz, what is happening? What are you even -"

"I've set up a simple communication system, for when I'm gone. You only use it if you want. He pulled her tablet across the counter toward him and tapped on it a few times. "You just open up the recordings program. I've enabled yours with a setting to share a video message directly with me, if you want, and then to tell you if I've viewed it, and when. This way, you can speak freely, have time to sort out your thoughts, and decide when to share them with me. All honesty, no pressure."

"What about you?" Each syllable that came out of her mouth was choked and strangled.

"I'll do the same. It'll let us be honest with each other, with none of the pressure."

"And when will you - I mean, you won't stay away for too long?" Her eyes had gone large and her eyebrows curved upward, so she resembled one of those bassets that always looked sad and automatically earned anyone's pity. 

"I'll come back when you decide. How you feel. If you want me to come back because you feel the same way, I'll be back as soon as I can. If you decide you want to pick up as we were when we first stepped on the Bus...friends and nothing more...."

Tears flowed freely down Jemma's cheeks now and Fitz stood, knowing that he would have to leave soon if he was going to leave at all. "I'll come back, Jemma. I'll always come back. But if we're to be friends, and only friends, I'll just need a bit of time. To...to let go of whatever...the thing is, I love you. Still do. More than anything. I want us to be more than friends, and if you don't - well, I'll need some time to get over you." He shrugged, silently begging her to understand. "That's all."

"So that's it, then? You're just leaving?" 

Fitz would never be able to shake the bitter edge to her question. Thank God he was already standing.

"You'll be alright. I'm just a message away." 

He stepped toward her and steeled himself for the smell of her shampoo as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Then, with a squeeze of her fingers, he walked out of the kitchen.

She might have broken down weeping. She might have gone on sipping her tea. She might have watched him mournfully. But he wouldn't know. He didn't look back.


	3. Blame it on the Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma's first message to Fitz.
> 
> Starting slow because Lord knows we have a looooong hiatus to fill, people.
> 
> <3 MJ

It took Fitz, Daisy, and Lincoln three days to locate the base on the outskirts of Los Angeles, settle themselves in, and come up with a comprehensive plan for finding and helping the hundreds emergent Inhumans who were quite heavily concentrated there. 

Fitz wished he could say he didn't check his watch every other minute for a message from Jemma. 

Those three nights were filled with fitful sleep, at least for Fitz - he was sure Daisy and Lincoln were up to something else entirely, which didnt help his mood one bit. Thank god for white noise and the custom fit headphones Jemma had gotten for him years ago.

There she was again. He couldn't even listen to his bloody aircraft carrier simulated sounds without thinking of her. He wondered, as he tossed and turned, trying to find the elusive cool spot on the pillow, how long it would take him to go a day or, hell, an hour without running across some deeply ingrained memory of her. 

After three days with no communication from her whatsoever, Fitz had no doubt that would be the outcome. He'd just have to learn to be without her. She'd decide she didn't love him, and eventually, when she found someone else, or maybe even when he did, they'd no longer be the most important person in the other's life. They'd drift apart. 

Fitz tried to expel the tightness that thought brought to his throat. Of course it was unsuccessful. He sat up and pressed his palms to his eyelids, groaning. At that instant, his watch buzzed and lit up, flashing the notification for an incoming message. 

It had to be two in the morning. but Fitz hit the accept button, half-blinded by the glowing blue light in the dark of his room. 

"Hi, Fitz."

Just like always, Jemma's voice was an anchor tethering his heart to home. Fitz squeezed his eyes against the tears that instantly formed at the sound of it. 

"I have to say, I really did not think you were serious. About leaving, you know. Indefinitely." Fitz squinted at his watch. She hadn't done video with this one. Probably for the best. "I, em...I sort of joked with Mack all through his briefing me on being the only head of the Playground's science division. Took his stern voice to convince me that you really did. Leave." 

The way her voice cracked on that last word twisted Fitz's heart. 

"Do you remember our second year at Sci-Ops? Right before Christmas holiday, we quarreled - joked, really, I thought - about how much work we should take on over the break. I think I said it was irresponsible to take so much time off and you said only a certifiable workaholic would think it was normal to work on Boxing Day and when you got on the plane an hour later it felt all wrong. I cried that whole flight home."

Fitz did remember. He'd felt awful as well, even though he would stand by what he'd said in the cafeteria that day, in front of half the agents at Sci-Ops. 

"It was the only time I ever felt that we parted in anger, Fitz. The only time I felt like you wanted to be away from me. Until now." 

A small growl of frustration rumbled up from Fitz's chest. Of course he didn't want to be away from her...but hell if it wasn't a bit of a relief to not worry about what to do, what to say, how to breathe in and out if he happened upon her beautiful, tragic face in the halls of the Playground. 

"Anyway, it's killing me, a bit." Jemma sniffled, sending mad static through the mike. "Are you cross with me? You said you weren't but I can't shake the feeling." There was a distinct pause, and if Fitz wasn't half asleep he might have been sure of her heavy sigh and sniffle that filled it. "Right. Well, I guess that's it. Mostly I just...I miss you. Goodnight, Fitz."

Fitz buried his face in his hands. This was impossible. Truly impossible. 

He ran responses through his head in the pitch black of his room, his lips forming around the words he might say in response. None of them were enough, and yet they were all far too much. 

Fitz fell asleep with angry, sad, hopeless sentences dancing through his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would still love any and all prompts and ideas!
> 
> And, as always, your kudos and comments make my heart sing. <3 to you all! -MJ


	4. Standard Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz isn't mad at Jemma, but he's still mad at the cosmos.

Days since Maveth - 28

 

"Hey, Jemma." 

 

After trying to pour his heart out into a ruddy voice message half a dozen times since dawn, Fitz realized he'd likely be missed by Daisy and Lincoln if he didn't leave his room soon. He didn't want to leave Jemma hanging, waiting for a reply all day, even though she'd left him dangling for days. 

 

_Don't compare. You can't compare her experience to yours. Lincoln told you that._

 

Lincoln had Daisy had gone through their fair share of trying to understanding each other through past traumas. It wasn't the same as him and Jemma - _nobody_ was the same as them - but it had been good advice, regardless. 

 

He cleared his throat, said again, "Hey, Jemma. Em...first of all, I still think I was right about that holiday. I know you're rolling your eyes at me right now as you're listening to this, and I don't care. I said it once, and I'll say it every year for the rest of our lives." Fitz's heart jumped at that - the phrase, the fact that he used it, and the seemingly unshakeable reality that, when he uttered the words, he automatically still thought of 'the rest of their lives' as them, _together_. He pressed on. "It's mad to work on Boxing Day, no matter how much you've got left to finish on a project or how much you miss your lab partner. Second, I felt the same way - dreadful, actually - wanted to call you and apologize a dozen times, and didn't have the courage to do it. Even though I didn't really have anything to apologize _for_."

 

He cleared his throat again, hoping he could get the next bit out without sounding too sentimental, or too harsh. "Third, and most important, Jem. I wasn't cross with you then, and I'm not cross with you now. But this time is different. Because I am sorry, Jem. Sorry that things didn't go differently. I don't know - I'll never know - if I've made the right decisions here. Maybe I should have left long ago. Maybe I should have kept on trying to exist in the same space as you when things are still so undecided between us. If any of my decisions ruins any chance we had of  being an us? Well, I'll be sorry for all my days. I mean that."

 

He was going to end it there, thinking it best to keep his messages about the same length as hers. But right as he was about to disconnect, he thought of one more thing. 

 

"Do you remember that day we were in the lab together, and we argued? You told me to get angry. I told you I was. Furious, but not at you. I shouted at you, actually, and I am sorry for that, too," he said, more for himself than for her, likely. She'd seemed vindicated when he'd finally let loose with those ugliest feelings, something that still confused him, if he was honest. He took a deep breath, then blew it out, knowing she could hear the conflict behind his words. "I'm still cross, and still not at you. Still at the cosmos. I know that annoys you to no end, and I know this is the second time you're rolling your eyes. Still hasn't changed. Not yet." Fitz closed his eyes and nodded to himself. He could end the message now. 

 

"Keep me posted on how you're gettin' on without me, now. Don't want Hannah and Haroun and my other favorites thinkin' I abandoned them. You were right, they're not all bad. Keep them busy or maybe they'll decide S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't worth wasting their new, adventurous spirits on. Oh, and have you called your mum and dad? I just realized, I meant to ask you if you had...."

 

Now this was getting ridiculous. Time to let her go, again. Fitz sighed, wondering if the end of every message would feel like this. "Miss you too, Jemma. Hear from you soon, I hope."

 

And then he disconnected.

 

Fitz locked his jaw, pressed 'send.'

 

That was that, then. He'd best get to work if he was going to keep from dwelling on how she'd respond. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, love your prompts and ideas! It'll be a long hiatus and this is helping me more than it's helping you. I'm sure. 
> 
> Your kudos and comments continue to bring me liiiiiife! I love all of you. <3 MJ


	5. This Bitter Pill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by my encounter with distinctly mannish-smelling deep conditioner this morning. Blech.

 

**Days since Maveth - 29**

 

Jemma's message came in right in the middle of dinner. It had been a hard day in the field, Fitz desperately trying to construct containment pods for an Inhuman who was uncontrollably liquefying matter, and another whose agitated emotional state created such strong wind gusts that Fitz's prior fortification methods didn't stand a chance.  Not to mention that since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. a year and a half ago, and the Academy with it, he'd hardly had a chance to search for the brightest minds in science and convince them to join a supposedly corrupt organization. He'd managed to convince a couple kids from UCLA to join their little team, and even though they were trying their best, they were damn near useless.

 

Fitz's muscles ached something terrible, and he smiled gratefully at Lincoln as he passed the simple dinner down the table. He nearly jumped when his watch buzzed, this time displaying Jemma's face.

 

He almost wished she hadn't done a video call.

 

Dark circles swooped under her eyes and her cheeks looked a bit sunken. Christ, had she even been eating?

 

"Fitz, you've left your shampoo at the Playground." 

 

Daisy snorted from across the table, her mouth half full. "Sorry," she mumbled, when Fitz shot her a glare.

 

"I should have realized and put it away for you when you come back. I'm sure it'll be soon," Jemma sniffed. "But I didn't, and now I've accidentally washed my hair with it. It smells quite strong and I'm now realizing that it must be at least forty percent of the smell I associate with you. Which would be lovely if it wasn't following me around right beside my face all bloody day. Now, every time I turn around, you're still not here _and_ I can smell you."

 

Now, even through the tiny, grainy video that displayed on his watch, he could see the tears welling in her eyes, ready to drop. She must have known that, and hurried to end the call. "It's ridiculous. And what are you washing with all the way out there, wherever you are, if your shampoo is here? Anyway, you've asked me to let you know how we're getting on here without you, and the answer is, quite honestly, terribly. None of the new techs know me or my lab preferences and protocols. This could be me reading way to far into things, but if I didn't know better I'd say they blame me for making you leave."

 

Her voice turned from scolding to soft then. "Come home, Fitz."  Quite abruptly, the call ended. 

 

"Geez, Fitz. Could you give her a break?" Daisy grumbled, her mouth half-full. Talking new Inhumans down from their intial transformation freak-out wasn't her favorite thing to do, and Fitz knew she was emotionally wrung out. Lincoln shot her a warning look. 

 

"No, it's okay. It's...complicated, Daisy."

 

"I know. I just....this sucks." 

 

"You're telling me." Then Fitz gave her a tense smile. "I know you miss her, too." 

 

The trio tucked into their dinner, and Fitz was collapsing onto his bunk for a solid rest half an hour later. He wondered if he would be this entirely knackered for the whole project. At least it was keeping his mind off things, more or less. 


	6. The Motions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @notapepper, who wanted to hear about Hydra. 
> 
> So, here we go, LET'S TALK ABOUT HYDRA. :D
> 
> <3 MJ

After Daisy had dragged herself off to bed, Lincoln had lumbered to the fridge and pulled out a six-pack of some lovely dark German beer, which he had Fitz had started in on in short order. 

 

Having Jemma as a best friend through the Academy and Sci-Ops had been nothing short of a miracle. That didn't mean that there was nothing missing for Fitz. As horrible as the aftermath of Fitz's drowning after the med-pod had been, his recovery had brought him the experience of socialization with other guys, something he'd never known he always needed. Lincoln and Fitz fell into the same unspoken pattern of male bonding that most guys seemed to understand as broken-heart protocol - downing at least one beer in short order, then one of them posing a question to the room's silence, that the other may choose to answer. 

 

Fitz spoke up first. "D'you think Jemma'll be okay?" 

 

Lincoln took a long draw from his second beer. "Define okay."

 

Fitz gave him a withering look. 

 

"I mean, the girl survived six months on an alien planet with weird air and next to no food, right?"

 

"With _him_ ," Fitz grunted. " _He_ had supplies. _He_ kept her warm at night, as both Hunter and Ward felt the need to point out to me." He took the first drink of his own second beer, and muffled the resulting burp with his fist. "As if I didn't already know. As if I hadn't tried to block out the thought a million times already." 

 

"Sucks," Lincoln grunted. 

 

They sat in silence for several more moments. 

 

"Still, you know," Lincoln offered, "s'not like she was on vacation, right? I mean, Captain HogFace couldn't have done anything to make up for the lack of sunlight, showers, and any hope of a normal life."

 

Fitz scoffed. "Guess you're right. At least when she went to Hydra she had her own apartment." 

 

Lincoln sat bolt upright, turning slowly to Fitz. "I know you can't be thinking this, but I gotta say it anyway. There's no way she was having fun at Hydra. No way she wanted to go. That had to suck for her, just as much as this sucks for you."

 

Fitz shrugged and took another long drink of his beer. "She left because I'd changed. And she couldn't stand to be around me." 

 

"And you left because... _.she_ 's changed and you can't stand to be around _her_. Right?"

 

Fitz hung his head, the weight of the truth of those words washing over him. Or, however true they felt in his buzzed state. Maybe it was the for the best that he was a bit fuzzy now. Maybe it helped him hear the core of what Lincoln was saying - Jemma was angry that he'd gone, but more than that, she may also have been sad, and hopelessly confused.

 

Fitz finished his second beer and pushed himself out of the springy office chair, wobbling the slightest bit as he did. "Thanks, Lincoln. Really."

 

Lincoln called after him as he strode away. "Don't say anything stupid! I know you're going to send her a message now!"

 

Fitz waved him off, chuckling to himself. He would almost certainly say something stupid. But maybe that was the point of liquid courage. 

 

****

Fitz managed a shower and a quick tooth brushing before he changed into a clean shirt and sweats and burrowed under his covers. It was nights like these, where he felt warm and fuzzy inside, that he most longed to share with Jemma.  

 

He sighed, stretched out his arm so that Jemma wouldn't have to look up his nostrils as he spoke, and pushed the "record video" tab. 

 

"Sorry about the shampoo, Jemma. I mean, I'm not sorry it makes you miss me. I mean, I _am_ sorry if you're upset that I'm gone, but if you miss me, it means...maybe...well, you know." Fitz blew out a breath and noted how his lips didn't feel quite right. A bit numb, maybe. 

 

"You know, when you left for Hydra - I didn't know that's where you were going at the time, mind - I kept finding those elastic things you put in your hair. Y'know, the ones you girls wear around your wrists and are always buying on supply runs, even though they come in packs of fifty or some nonsense. How can y'lose fifty glorified rubber bands in the space of a few weeks? They were everwhere. In the drawer of my lab bench, behind doors covered in dust bunnies, on the floor of the shower. Anyway, at the beginning, I still thought you were on holiday visiting your mum and dad, so I kept 'em in a pile for you. Once I realized you weren't coming back any time soon, I told myself I'd stop. But I couldn't. Even the version of you in my head told me it was pointless, but I couldn't make myself stop picking up the ruddy things and putting them in that jar. Just in case y'came back. 

 

"Then, you know, as the days went on, I found fewer and fewer of 'em. It was like even those damn hair elastics were telling me - it was over. You weren't _ever_ coming back."

 

Fitz sighed. "I don't want to do that to you, okay Jemma? That's why we have these messages. So you'll know where I am, what I'm thinking. I will come back. I will."

 

Fitz blew out a long sigh. He couldn't deny that, even as he said it, he was preparing himself for the near-inevitability of Jemma deciding they were best as friends, and friends only. After all, if she hadn't found herself in love with him by now...after all this time, knowing how he felt, bloody _kissing_ him...would she ever be able to love him like he loved her?

 

Fitz shook his head to bring himself back to the video message. 

 

"I'm knackered, Jem. I just wanted y'to know...I didn't want t'leave. Just felt like I had to. Okay? Just...erm...just message me back soon, okay? I like t'hear your voice. And, Jem? I miss you too."

 

Not two minutes after Fitz hit 'send' and let his eyes fall shut, his watch buzzed against his wrist with an incoming message chime. Jemma's face on the tiny screen in deep-contrast looked even more exhausted than it had in her last message. It was smooshed against a pillow, and her hair was a wild halo around her head. A standard-issue S.H.I.E.L.D. coverlet swooped over her shoulder, bare except for a thin strap. _Bloody hell._  


 

"I'll send you a longer message in the morning, Fitz, but for now I want to say thank you." Her mouth stretched into a long oval as she adorably yawned. "I've been tossing and turning here for hours, and after watching that message of yours, I think I'll be able to fall asleep. Goodnight, Fitz." Jemma's room on the screen spun wildly as she moved to disconnect the message, and then suddenly it jerked back to her face. "Oh, and Fitz? Do get up and have a glass of water. I'm sure Daisy won't be happy if you're hung over in the morning." 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, your kudos and comments make my writing life worth living (or sitting in a hard bar stool with a glass of wine, as it were.) 
> 
> Since chapters 3 and onward will consist of recorded phone messages between our star-crossed science nuggets, your prompts and ideas are especially encouraged and welcome for this fic.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Steamy lab kisses to everyone!


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